Missing
by Are You Afraid of the Dark
Summary: Tweek and I were not really close friends. More like aquaintances. So I was obviously shocked and irritated when he showed up at my house in the middle of the night babbling about stalkers. I didn't beleive him. Now he's missing, and it's all my fault. TC
1. Chapter 1

Ok, I realize that this story is probably not all that good, but I'm trying here so please bare with me ;; Criticism is highly appreciated. Reviews are loved.

I would never say that Tweek and I were friends. More like casual acquaintances who happened to hang out with each other from time to time. He was actually more Clyde's friend. I don't think that he and I ever really said more than five or six words to each other at a time. Not since we were eight, anyway. After that fight, we found out what Cartman, Marsh, and Broflofski had been up too, made up, (well, awkward apologies count, anyway) and pretty much went our separate ways. Just like before the fight, we didn't even give each other a passing glance until he became all buddy buddy with Clyde.

So, that in mind, it's completely understandable that I was surprised and more than slightly irritated when he showed up at my house at eleven o'clock at night, pounding franticly on my door. I swear he was hitting the damn thing hard enough to leave a dent.

"Tweek? God damnit, do you have any idea what time it is?" I demanded after yanking open the door and gawking at him for a few silent moments. He was panting, out of breath. His face was flushed and sweaty and he seemed to be tweaking more than ever, if it was at all possible.

"S-sorry, Craig, but your house was- GAH!- t-the closest at the time, so-"

"Oh joy." I cut him off, a bit impatiently. The nights in South Park'll freeze your balls off (if you've got 'um) and there was a breeze blowing right in through my door. Not fun when you're in nothing but pajama pants. "Look, either come in or stay outside, either way, I'm closing the door." I snapped. I expected him to flinch away, or scream about there being to much pressure to choose, since that was what he usually did when faced with a decision. This time, however, he surprised me again by immediately leaping- I fuck with you not- LEAPING past me, through the doorway and into my house without so much as a hesitation.

Closing the door, I whirled on him, thanking my lucky stars that my sister was over at a friends house and my parents were out of town. I didn't want to have to deal with both the wicked bitch of the West or my mom and dad who, incidentally, _hate_ being woke before they have to be…

Kinda like me.

I opened my mouth to demand what the hell he was doing knocking on people's doors at this hour, when _normal_ people were in bed, but he cut me off before I could say anything.

"Oh God, Craig, you've got to help me! I think someone's been following me!" His voice started out as his usual strained shout but gradually faded into a high pitched whisper. I arched an eyebrow and folded my arms across my chest.

"You woke me up at eleven-something on a school night to tell me that you're being paranoid again?" I asked a little harshly. But hey, can you blame me? I had been having a pretty good dream before that little fucker had woke me.

"Nononononononon!" He rushed out franticly, his right eye twitching faster than usual, as if trying to keep up with his onslaught of denials. "GAH! I'm serious Craig!" He squealed, waving his arms. "Some guys have been following me for the past three or four days! I know it! Every time I turn around, there they are!" He looked at me with wide, twitching eyes, as if expecting me to gasp and immediately rush to the phone and call the cops….or rush outside and take care of his 'stalkers.'

"Tweek." I said calmly. "This is South Park. We have one main street that everyone uses. There are tons of back roads, yes, but if you want to go anywhere, you have to stick to the street. Everyone knows this. If there are strangers in town, they're probably not following you, they're probably shopping."

"But! But!" He yelped, looking like he was about to freak out because I didn't believe him. I was actually starting to get slightly worried. As far as I knew, he never got this way when Clyde told him that Underpants Gnomes didn't exist. "Every morning! They're outside my house, just across the street, watching! Waiting!……OH SWEET JESUS," He squealed suddenly, "they're going to kill me! You have to help me!" He lunged at me and grabbed my arms. His hands were freezing and he was shaking like a leaf, but his grip was surprisingly strong for someone who looked so small and fragile.

"Ow! Tweek! Let go!" I snapped trying to pry his fingers off of me (and his nails out of my skin.) Much to my relief, he immediately did as I told him, letting me go and backing up a few paces.

"Oh God! Sorry! I'm sorry Craig!" he yelped, looking completely lost. I sighed to myself in annoyance as I rubbed the crescent moon indents in my forearms.

"It's ok. Look, Tweek, it's probably just your imagination." I told him. "I mean, you live above and behind a coffee shop! On Main street, no less! They're probably just some of your dad's customers." He frowned up at me, his eyebrows forming a small v in the center of his forehead.

"But Craig-" He started, his tone pleading. I sighed. I really had no idea how to handle the kid. I hardly knew anything about him. I knew his face, his name, that he had a serious addiction to coffee and one hell of a right hook, but that was about it.

"Look, Tweek, I can't help you. Go ask Clyde. He's like, your best friend, right?" I half growled, rubbing the sides of my head. I always thought that it was a cliché thing to do when ever you feel a headache coming on, but surprisingly, it helps, if only a little.

"W-well, yeah, I guess but-"

"So go ask him. I really have no idea what to tell you, Tweek." He flinched as I put my hand on his quivering back and began to push him to the door.

"But I can't! I came here because it was closest! If I go out there again, they'll grab me and torture me! Maybe even rape me!" He began working himself up, panicking. Turning to face me, he dug his heels into my carpet and grabbed my arm. He looked pleadingly up at me, his body's spastic jerking becoming worse with every passing second. "Then they'll torture me and kill me! Please Craig! Don't make me go out there! I CAN'T GO OUT THERE!" He was literally screaming now, and I wondered how long it would be before my neighbors called officer Barbrady down to arrest us for disturbing the peace.

"TWEEK!" I shouted back at him, my temper slipping out of my control more and more with each passing moment. "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" and then I did the only thing my frustrated, angry mind would let me; I punched him.

I honestly didn't even realize what I had done until he was seated on the floor holding his jaw, staring up at me with one of the most pathetic expressions I have ever seen on anyone. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down.

"Sorry." I said, my voice cold. "Look, Tweek, you're paranoid and all of that coffee you drink probably doesn't help stuff. You hallucinate and you blow things way out of proportion. I honestly don't know what to do with you, but you're panicking over nothing. We live in _South Park_ dude. Why would anyone want to stalk and kidnap _you _ anyway? You'd probably drive them crazy." I glared down at him. "Now, I'm going back to bed. Go bother Clyde with your story. He'll probably humor you." I stepped around him and opened the door, motioning him out. He stood, shaking and wordless for the first time since entering my house. He walked to the door, but paused right inside it and peered nervously out into the dark.

"Ah! Er- c-could you -ah- c-c-coulde you walk me there, Craig?" He asked hopefully, peering up at me through a clump of tangled blond hair he was nervously tugging on. I sighed.

"No Tweek. Look." I stepped up behind him, grabbed his chin and directed his gaze out the door and on to the empty street. "No one is there, and the entire road is light up with street lights, see?" Still shaking like mad, me nodded as best as my hand would let him. I released my hold on him and stepped back.

"Se nothing to freak out about. If you're afraid of the dark, just tell me, but don't go making up stories. I'm not going to hold you hand." He started to protest, something about not being afraid of the dark, so much as what was _ in_ the dark, and that he was NOT making it up! But I ignored him and pushed him out the door.

"Craig! Please! The red headed guy'll get me!" he squeaked before I could close the door. I rolled my eyes and sighed.

"great, he has a hair color now?" I grumbled. Tweek nodded furiously, and for a moment I was afraid that his head was about to roll off.

"They've always had hair colors, all three of them." He told me in a tone that implied that I should have known this already. I felt my annoyance giving way to my temper once again. "One is a read head, one had short-ish black hair and the other is bald." he paused for a moment, looking around wildly, as if he thought that they would suddenly pop out of the bushes and attack him. "The bald dude has this weird tattoo on his left arm." He added, making a jerky motion with his own left arm as if for emphasis.

"I…see. And do they all wear long black trench coats, black glasses and work with the aliens and underpants gnomes?" I asked snidely. He tilted his head to one side, looking confused.

"N-no, they wear t-shirts and jeans." He had to stop for a moment as his head jerked to one side rather violently. "And the aliens and gnomes don't work together. I don't even think they know each other. The gnomes work for Santa Clause."

There was a very silent pause for a moment, filled only with the occasional soft grunt from him as a particularly bad wave of tweaks hit him.

"Santa Clause." I said after a moment. He nodded. Ok, this kid was even more fucked up than I had thought. "Good night Tweek." I muttered, shutting the door in his face and locking it.

"OH GOD! NO WAIT! CRAIG! PLEASE! OPEN UP! OH SWEET JESUS! I'M GOING TO DIE! CRAIG! CRAIG! PLEASE! DON'T DO THIS!" I winced and plugged my fingers into my ears, hoeing to muffle the sounds of him scratching and beating franticly at my door, twisting the knob every so often. I frowned to myself, starting to feel guilty. It wasn't his fault he was so paranoid, was it? It was all that damn coffee his parent gave him, right? I mean, he had always come across to me as very sweet and honest…

With a sigh, I unplugged my ears and turned to open the door again. Before I could, however, I heard him sob, the sound muffled by my door, and rush down my steps. I could hear his footsteps running down the sidewalk, the sound echoing in the cold, otherwise silent night. I sighed and headed back upstairs. He was headed in the direction of Clyde's house, and the two of us didn't really live that far apart. Not more than a couple of blocks, anyway.

Honestly, I didn't see how he dealt with Tweek. Just holding a conversation with him was like talking to a nervous little kid.

I crawled back in bed and pulled the covers up over me. I've never had any problems with sleeping, and even now that didn't prove much of a problem. But as soon as I slipped off, I began having nightmares, something to do with a bald man and tattoos. Whatever it was, though, it must have been some fucked up shit, because when I woke to the sound of the telephone screaming in my ears, I was covered in sweat and on the verge of hyperventilating.

Wiping my forehead quickly and shoving some of my air out of my face, I grabbed the annoying contraption by my bedside.

"'lo?" I asked groggily, having some trouble spitting the word out. My mouth and throat was dry and somewhat sticky. (it tasted disgusting, by the way.)

"Craig?" it was Clyde. I frowned at the receiver. He sounded kind of funny, and I don't mean in his usual stopped up way. He sounded nervous.

"Clyde?" I asked, for no reason other than I felt the need to restate the obvious. "What's up dude?"

"Craig, have you seen or heard from Tweek? His parents just called my house and said that he didn't come home last night."

Ok, so it wasn't that great, but please tell me what you thought of it anyway, even if you read it and went "Eh, It's alright, I guess…."

Btw, I also have a com for this pairing on Live Journal, if anyone wants to join. I'm trying to get it up on it's feet, and so therefore, I am shamelessly advertising it here.


	2. Chapter 2

Ok, I would like to thank Tweeklikechololate for her help on this chapter. She has been beta-ing it for me, and while I'm note really to keen on Betas, she has been doing a lovely job on this. She was kind enough to beta this chapter for me twice, even:D

This is the second draft, which is why it's so late. (well, that and my 'net connection goes out on me every time I get ready to post) I meant to have it out a few days ago, but after I deleted the entire second half and re-did it, it just kept going and going. I almost didn't stop it where I did.

Well, I'm rambling now, and I know how annoying that can be, so I'm going to just shut up and post this. Constructive criticism is a must for me. How can I make this better? Suggestions? Help? Ideas? Tweek plushies?

I do not own, nor am I affiliated in any way with South Park or it's creators, and I am making no money from the writing of this.

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"He-he came around my house about eleven last night, babbling some kind of nonsense. I sent him over to your house…" I said finally after a rather long, jumbled pause in which I gathered my sleep scattered thoughts and tried to put them in the right order. I cleared my throat, which was dry and sticky from sleep before continuing. "He….didn't show up?"

I already knew the answer to that, of course. Clyde wouldn't be calling me if he had. But still, it was like I had to hear it to make sure. I think it's like a form of morbid curiosity that people tend to resort to in times of confusion or panic.

I was the first one, by the way.

"No, no he didn't." There was a pause. "What- What was he talking about?" His voice sounded strained, but I chalked it up to the fact that he had probably only just woken up as well.

I thought for a moment, back to my 'conversation' with the Tweaker last night.

"Something about a stalker... No three stalkers." I said finally. Confusion was digging it's ugly little claws into me. I heard him make a gagging noise on the other end of the line. "Who else's house would he have gone to? He said he only came to mine because it was closer."

There was a pause as he thought my words over.

"Well, I guess he could have gone to Token's house, or even Kenny, Kyle or Stan's. he's on pretty good terms with them, you know…and I guess we can't rule out Butters, I've seen them hanging out a couple of times…" he answered tightly.

"Yeah..." I agreed slowly, thinking back to all the times I had seen him around school. To me, Tweek was one of those people who you knew and spoke to once in a while, but that you didn't actually _know_, you know?

I sighed quietly to myself, shaking my head. Oh well, I thought, He's probably getting ready for school with some friend of his. I didn't really know why Clyde was even calling me.

Clyde paused so long that I thought he had just hung up on me. I flipped the phone the bird, and was about to hang up myself when he finally said something.

"So we won't know until we get to school?" Christ, was that worry in his voice? "What if he's hurt or something?" I frowned, even though I knew he couldn't see me.

_It's just Tweek, for God sakes._ I wanted to demand, even though I kept silent.Clyde was seriously protective of the little twitcher, and I didn't want to have to sit and listen to him yell at me all day.

"How about this;" I said suddenly, an idea coming to me. I was hoping to put him at ease, and maybe I was feeling a little guilty for my behavior to Tweek the night before, not that I would apologize when we saw him at school. Not after this little fiasco. 

"I'll call Token and see if I can catch him before we head to the bus stop. If he's not there, then he must be with one of the other three and he'll most likely show up with them. He probably just forgot to call home and ended up spending the night with someone."

There was another long pause on the other end of the line.

"……'K." He finally said, but he didn't sound convinced. In fact, he sounded completely distracted. I wondered for a moment if he had even heard anything I had just said. "Meet you at the bus stop in half an hour?" I didn't know why he sounded like there was something wrong, but once again I didn't think to much on it. If there was one thing Tweek and Clyde defiantly had in common, it was blowing things out of proportion. Tweek just tended to make his fears publicly known almost immediately, whereas Clyde stewed in silence for several days before snapping at one of us.

"Half an hour." I confirmed, trying to ignore his tone. Just listening to him was making _me_ a little uneasy.

I hit the button to hang up the phone and waited for the dial tone before I started punching numbers with a bit of a righteous feeling. Token drove to school, instead of riding the bus, so he usually slept in later. I figured that he needed to get up early with the rest of us every once in a while, and now I had an excuse to get the lazy ass out of bed!

The phone rang six times before he finally picked it up.

"God, Craig, its early…"

Heh.

"Good morning to you too, Token, you black asshole." I greeted right back in the most cheerful, obnoxious voice I could manage. I glanced absently at my clock, flipping off the phone again without thinking. It was almost seven.

"Look," I said before he could come up with a retort. "Is Tweek at your house? Clyde just called me and said that Tweek's parents called _him_ because Tweek didn't come home last night." I habitually twirled the cord around my finger.

"No, sorry, he's not here." Came Token's much more awake answer. I paused in my cord twirling and frowned. Now _he_ sounded kind of worried. Was there something here that I was missing? "He didn't come home at all?"

I shook my head even though I knew he couldn't see me. "That's the story." I told him. "Clyde was freaking out, so I told him I'd call you and ask before school, since you don't ride the bus with us, and we figure that if he spent the night with anyone else, he'll show up at the bus stop."

"It's not like Tweek to just go somewhere without saying anything though." He said. I arched an eyebrow at the phone.

"I wouldn't know." I answered. "He and I don't really talk."

"Yeah, I know," he sounded puzzled "but still, every time he's stayed the night here, or he's gone somewhere with us, he's always called his parents, you know? It's something about being afraid that if he doesn't come home without any warning, his parents will pack up and move without him."

I couldn't help but snicker.

"Sound's like Tweek." I muttered.

"Yeah… Look, I'll let you go so you can get ready for school, ok?" he said, his voice a bit uneasy.

Huh?

Oh, right… school. The greatest evil known to mankind.

I sighed.

"Yeah, 'k, see you later."

I heard the click as he hung up. What the heck was up with those two?

I set my own phone down and climbed out of bed, not bothering to make it. My mom would handle that when she got home. She just couldn't stand to see a messy anything. Sometimes I wondered if she had OCD as well as Terrets.

I decided to multi-task that morning, since I only had twenty something minutes to get ready and get to the bus stop. I ended up hopping around on one foot, tugging off my pyjama pants and searching for some relatively clean clothes as I headed for the bathroom to brush my teeth. Once they were all sparkly and my breath didn't smell like I drank out of the toilet, I checked my pants in the mirror to make sure I had gotten them on right side around this time. Giving that good looking devil in the mirror one last thumbs up, grabbed my bag and puff-ball hat, taking the stairs two at a time. I reached the door just as my mom walked in.

"Hey, sweetie, what's the rush?" She asked as I pushed past her, flipping me off as she did so. I absently answered the gesture with one of my own as I crunched out through the fresh snow covering our driveway.

"School. I'm meeting Clyde at the bus stop. Got to go, love you, bye."

I'm not so sure she appreciated me slamming the door in her face, though, now that I think back on it.

The walk there was as uneventful and cold as always (though I guess when you live in South Park your whole life, you get kind of used to it. Nothing really interesting or exciting ever really happens here). Clyde was standing by himself when I arrived, staring blankly at the ground and frowning.

"Hey tubby!" I greeted him. He's not really fat, of course, not like Cartman, just a bit short for our age, and still has that pink tinge in his cheeks that can only come with baby fat. But just to be mean, we all call him tubby.

Well, all except Tweek, anyway. I always got the feeling he disapproved of our little nickname for Clyde, though he never said anything about it out loud. Tweek never voiced his displeasures, unless he saw a spider or something. Then the whole world knew it.

Clyde's head snapped up. He looked confused at first, as if he had forgotten where he was, but as soon as he saw me his entire face lit up.

"Was he there?"

It was the first thing out of his mouth. He said it so hopefully that I actually felt guilty as I shook my head. The smile that had bloomed across his face vanished.

"Sorry man, but Token said he wasn't at his house." Clyde bit his lip, looking like his worst nightmare had just come true.

"Dude." I said, reaching out and shaking his shoulder gently, I was confused. This was _Tweek_ we were talking about, right? _Tweek! _And we lived in fucking _South Park. _It's a fucking red neck, white trash mountain town. Bad things don't happen here.

"Don't look like you're planning his funeral already. It's not like he just vanished into thin air. This is a small hick mountain town. He's bound to be around here somewhere. Besides" I added when he still looked like he was about to vomit all over himself "there's still Kyle, Stan and Kenny to ask."

"Ask us what?"

I had to bite my tongue hard to keep from yelping. That wouldn't have been good for my image, especially considering who had spoken. Kenny had never been the scariest of teenage boys, after all. He, Stan and Kyle were heading up the snow-covered sidewalk, Kenny in front with Stan and Kyle side by side a step or two behind him.

Tweek was not with them.

Damn.

This was getting frustrating.

"Did Tweek happen to spend the night with any of you?" Clyde asked before I had a chance to say anything. All three of them shook their heads slowly, looks of bemusement crossing their faces.

"Why? Did Tweekers wander off and get lost?" Kenny asked jokingly. His face fell slightly when our silence answered his question.

"You're kidding." He said, arching an eyebrow. I shook my head slightly, sighing to myself. I seemed to be doing a lot of that for just one morning. "Mr. boyscout-does-not-stay-out-after-dark-for-fear-of-the-boogyman-Tweek?"

"He didn't come home last night, apparently, and he didn't call his parents to tell them where he would be." I answered. "So now Clyde is worried." Clyde shot me a look that I couldn't interpreter.

It wasn't a very nice look, though.

"So?" Stan piped up before I could read more into that look. "He's a big boy, I'm sure he has his reasons for being out late." He yawned, stretching in a way that popped his back with a loud snapping sound. I flipped him off as Kyle cringed, silently agreeing with him, but not saying so out loud, I knew if I did Clyde would freak out.

He flipped me off right back without even missing a beat.

"Like what?" Clyde demanded tightly, shooting me another weird look. I think I knew what that one was about, though.

"He's an insomniac, right?" Kyle answered in defense of his best friend, shrugging. "It stands to reason that he would be out all night."

He's an insomniac? Well, that would explain the dark circles under his eyes.

"But still. Tweek always calls. And he's afraid of the dark." Clyde pointed out with a scowl, pretty much repeating Token, only in a whinier, more pleading tone. "You know how paranoid he is. He _has_ to call."

"Ok, well, do you know anywhere else he would be, anyway?" Kyle asked, his tone annoyed with the argument that was looming over-head and slightly patronizing.

"The only other person we could come up with is Butters. He's the only other one we've ever seen him hang out with." I told them, shrugging. "I already called Token."

"He wouldn't be at Butters' place." Stan spoke up while Kenny nodded. "He told me Friday that he was going up to visit an old friend of his over the weekend, someone he said he met at 'camp,' I think? He wasn't planning on getting back until sometime this morning. He'll probably head straight to school."

"Who the hell does _that_?" I asked, surprised.

"I think he just wanted to get in one last night at Bradley's before he had to come home. They don't really get to see each other often, you know. Bradley's parents don't like Butters, and he can only come over when they're not there and his parents say its ok." Kenny practically sang. That boy was a gossip if there ever was one, and he always ended up with the best information before anyone else.

"How can any adult not like Butters?" Kyle asked incredulously. Stan and I nodded in agreement. Butters was the epitome of the good, polite boy that every parent wished was their own.

"I'm sure I don't know." Kenny replied in a tone that made me sure that he did.

"Where the hell is he then?" Clyde broke in suddenly, startling all of us.

What was he talking about?

Oh yeah, Tweek was 'missing.'

Note the air quotes.

"Look." Kenny said slowly, turning to look at him with something that resembled sympathy. "Tweek maybe paranoid, but he's not stupid. If he didn't call in last night, then he must have a reason for it." I nodded in agreement.

Exactly, Tweek would be fine. Now if only Clyde could see that.

But Clyde _didn't_ see that. He bit his lip and looked for a moment like he was going to continue arguing. But instead he took a deep breath, let it out slowly and growled.  
"Fine, when we find him dead in a ditch somewhere, just know that I told you so." He hissed as he turned on his heel and stormed off a few feet to stew in silence and alone-ness.

I frowned at him in the relatively awkward silence that followed.

Silence?

"Where's the fat-ass?" I asked, realizing rather suddenly that the fat, racist bastard wasn't standing in the forefront making insulting comments. How the _hell_ had I missed that?

Much to my surprise, Kenny's face split into a wide, catlike grin that left me feeling oddly uncomfortable as Kyle and Stan both began sniggering.

"He had to stay home today. He's not feeling to well." Kenny answered in a voice that said that that wasn't what had happened at all. I arched an eyebrow.

"Really now?" I asked, tilting my head to one side curiously, feeling a bit of a grin tugging at my own lips. Kenny nodded again, his grin widening. "If I ask you what you did to him, will you guys even tell me?"

"If we tell you, we'll have to kill you, dude." Stan said between snorts of laughter.

We stood there waiting for the bus, tossing random comments, bits of gossip and insults back and forth while Clyde stood silently off to one side. All thoughts of Tweek left our minds as the rusty death trap known as public transportation pulled up and we got on. In fact, only Clyde's constant silence and despondency reminded me that something was up.

That and the way he kept staring at Tweek's empty seat beside his own.

I figured that he would go all day like that, and I was seriously beginning to worry. Token and I had both tried to get him to at least say something, but each time we had started a conversation with him, he had simply nodded and pretended to go along with the conversation (silently) or had ignored us all together. It was usually the last one.

It wasn't until English that he seemed to snap out of it, if only a bit.

I had actually been paying attention for once. Our teacher, Mrs. P. Scott (not to be confused with Mrs. S. Scott, the lab teacher, across the hall.) had been talking about some kind of project she was going to make us do, where we had to research one person in our family, ask a lot of questions and stuff, and then write a six page biography on them.

It sounded kind of fun.

Anyway, she had been standing at the front of the room outlining the guidelines for our rough draft (like anyone was actually going to do it twice when you could just do it once and hand it in) when something small and firm hit the side of my head.

It was a note, of course, but I hadn't exactly been expecting it since the only one I have class with is Clyde, who had been in Mope Mode all day. I picked it up, sat it on my desk and flipped it off. Then I opened it and read it.

_Meet me after school. Token and I are going to go see if Tweek came home while we were at school. If he didn't then we are going to go looking for him._

Well, there was only one person _this_ note could have some from. I scribbled my answer back to him and, when Mrs. Scott turned her back, returned it to sender.

_**Dude, no way! Red Racer is on after school!**_

He read it over, scowling. Glancing up, he caught my eyes and gave me a brief, withering look before scribbling back and chunking it at me. This time I caught it, but I could tell it had been thrown with considerable force (not that a note thrown a pissed off speed would do much damage, but still). I flipped him off as I opened it.

_Dude, you've watched that show religiously since you were six. Don't you think you've grown out of it yet? Besides, I'm sure you have every episode memorized. Missing one for a friend will NOT kill you._

I growled slightly, and the kids on either side of me immediately scooted away as fast and as far from me as possible without getting caught.How dare he insult Red Racer?! Sure I had watched it many times over, and maybe I was a little too old for it, but still-!

_**Don't insult Red Racer, dickhead! And for your information, I HAVE missed it for Tweek before, thank you. What about you? What about now? God, it's not like Tweek is your boyfriend or something. Chill.**_

His face went red as he scribbled his answer, and this time he didn't even look at me as he threw it blindly back to me. (It actually missed and hit the kid next to me. I had to lean over and retrieve it from under his chair. Now _that_ is an awkward position.)

_You asshole, that was in third grade. And you're taking this too lightly. Tweek doesn't just VANISH, ok, if you knew him like I do, you'd know that._

_**I DON'T know him. SO what's Your point? YOU'RE taking this too seriously. Maybe he just wanted a change of pace. Or maybe he decided to hide somewhere from the 'Stalkers' and didn't think it was safe to call home. He's probably fine.**_

_But what if he's not? What if something really did happen to him? Come on Craig, don't be a douche._

I sighed and rubbed the side of my head. Clyde was being stubborn. What _was _his obsession with Tweek, anyway? Maybe he _did_ have a crush on him? I frowned. As creepy as it sounded, it actually wasn't that much of a stretch of my imagination to believe that.

My mind flashed back to the look on Tweek's face the night before. He had looked so desperate and scared. I bit my lip. Now that it wasn't the middle of the night, I felt kind of bad.

_**Fine. But if we find out he's just been playing hooky all day, your ass is going to owe me big time.**_

The plan was to go by the Tweak residence first, and if he wasn't there, the pond, the park, the arcade, the library and the bridge. _That_ was before Clyde decided that he couldn't wait long enough for school to be over. We ended up ditching the last two classes of the day. In order to make sure we didn't get caught, however, we had to change our rout so that the Tweaks' was last. If we showed up there and Tweek had been home all along, I promised myself, I was going to kick both his and Clyde's asses.

Clyde and I stood by my locker, watching as Token got in some last good-bye kisses form Wendy. I rolled my eyes. It wasn't like he wasn't going to see her the next day, right?

"Damnit Token…" I muttered "Hurry up or the bell'll ring and we'll lose our only chance to get safely out of here…." it wasn't like I wanted to go look for Tweek, really, I just REALLY wanted out of math class. It's never been my strong point, and we had a test in there that day.

The asshole _finally _parted from his dearly beloved, pointedly ignoring the death glares being sent his way from somewhere in the general direction of Stan's locker.

"Jesus, Token." I joked when he was close enough. "You're almost as obsessive with your girlfriend as Clyde is with Tweek." That got me glared form both parties.

"Shut up Craig." Token sighed. I just grinned at him and started for the door.

As it turns out, Tweek wasn't at the Library, or the bridge, or the park, or the pond. With each passing place, Clyde seemed more and more on edge. Hell, he was even making _me_ jumpy. We even made a few detours at his insistence, though I'm still not sure why the hotel made his list…

Well, unless he was staying the night there to keep away from his parents.

It was nearly dark by the time we ended up at Tweak Bros.

After the little "Corporate takeover" crisis our town went through with Harbucks Coffee, Mr. Tweak and the Harbucks guy made a deal; Tweek's dad would take over the Harbucks building, renaming it Tweak Bros. and combine it with the smaller store he already owned. Instead of selling just Tweak coffee- that most people agreed was terrible- however, he would also sell the Harbucks brand. Because of this, Tweek's family had ended up rather well off.

Tweek's house was in the back of the old coffee shop. They had moved there from their old house so, (Tweek had told us one day at lunch) that Mr. and Mrs. Tweak wouldn't have to get up so early to open and serve commuters. Plus, now they had a larger living space. I had only been there a couple of times, but from what I remembered, it was a really nice house. The strong coffee smell just gave it a kind of homey feel.

Ok, I'll get on with the story before I start sounding like Mr. Tweak, God forbid.

We entered the Harbucks portion of the building just as the store was closing. The sign was already turned around and the place was empty save for three people-the Tweaks and one other who was just leaving as we walked in.

I pushed past the last customer, a big, muscular bald guy in sunglasses and a dark t-shirt and jeans, trying to slide around him without touching him. We ended up bumping shoulders though, since the doors, while not small, were not made to accommodate a man of his girth and another person. He growled at me and I flipped him off. The scorpion tattoo on his face contracted as he snapped out a "Watch it, brat." before he disappeared around the corner.

"Fucking asswipe!" I shouted after him, flipping the door off even after it had closed and he was out of site.

"Now now, I'm sure he was just tired." came Mr. Tweak's voice from behind me. I heard Token sigh and I just knew that he was rolling his eyes.

I had always liked the Tweaks' voices (well, except for Tweek himself, though I suppose that if it wasn't so strained all the time it would be ok.) since they were always so calm and gentle. I wondered if they had to be that way to keep Tweek relatively calm.

Now, looking at Tweek's mother and father, I silently decided that _they_ were the ones who looked tired. In fact, they looked kind of frazzled.

"Now, what can we do for you boys?" Mrs. Tweek asked as she picked up a clean coffee pot from behind the counter and began wiping it down with a rag. Mr. Tweak was packing away different types of grounds.

"Have you heard from Tweek yet?" Token asked. There was silence for a moment as each of the Tweaks kept their gazes on their own tasks. Finally, Mr. Tweak shook his head.

"No, we haven't." He admitted. I shifted uncomfortably. For the first time that I day considered the possibility that maybe something was wrong.

Maybe.

"If he's not back by tonight" Tweek's father continued "I'm calling the cops, even if there is a 48 hour rule."

"Can we go up to his room?" Clyde asked suddenly. "Maybe he left something up there that'll help us find him."

Mr. and Mrs. Tweak exchanged a look not unlike the one I'm sure I had on my face.

He wanted us to snoop through Tweek's stuff? Wasn't that taking this a bit far?

"Well, I suppose you could boys, but why on earth would you want to go up there when Tweek's not here?" Mrs. Tweek asked. Clyde shrugged.

"Token and I know him better than the police do." He said simply.

"We might find something that wouldn't mean anything to the police, but would mean something to Tweek." Token added. I noticed Mr. Tweak's eyes flash to me briefly, as if waiting for me to say something, but I kept silent. I didn't know Tweek, and I wasn't about to pretend that I did.

"Well…" Mrs. Tweak hesitated a moment, looking over at her husband, who simply shrugged.

"Why not, honey. Maybe they _can _find something that the police wouldn't."

Why was everyone assuming that Tweek wouldn't just come waltzing (or vibrating) through the door sometime before tomorrow morning? Were people really _that_ pessimistic?

"We know the way up there already." Clyde said, already heading for the door that leads to the house part of the shop. Mrs. Tweak looked like she was about to protest, but her husband placed his hand on her arm, shaking his head. Any objection she had been about to voice, she swallowed instead, but she still didn't look very happy.

I followed Token and Clyde up the somewhat familiar staircase to the second floor. The house was as warm and inviting as I remembered it, the walls painted a mixture of off white and a rich, warm brown color. The furniture was a calm jade or brown leather with some red accents draped over them here and there. The floor was a dark stained wood (or appeared to be, anyway), as were the doors, and the whole place, of course, smelled strongly of coffee.

Clyde opened the second door to the left, just off the landing. The room it revealed was rather plain with only two or three posters on the walls and one framed photo. The walls were otherwise a soft green color with a plain white overhead light on the ceiling. The only window in the room faced the street and was covered by one of those pull down window shades and light yellow curtains. There was a pretty good-sized TV in the corner, along with a dvd/vhs player and one of the newer Okama Game Sphere models. Upon closer inspection of the photo I realized, with a jolt of surprise, that I remembered when it had been taken. It was our first day of high school. It had been one of the few times I had been over to Tweek's house, since his parents decided to drive us all that day (I'm pretty sure Tweek was mortified). It was all four of us, Clyde with his arms around a panicked and embarrassed looking Tweek in the middle, with Token and I on either side. Token was wearing his polite "I'm around parents" smile and I was yawning into one hand and flipping of the camera with the other.

I snickered.

"Dude, stop goofing off." I heard Clyde say from behind me. I looked over my shoulder at him to see him peering into what looked like Tweek's underwear drawer.

"Hey, you guys are the ones who know him so well." I reminded them, walking over to the neatly made bed and staring at it. "And while I'll admit that something isn't quite right here, it doesn't mean that something has happened to him. Maybe he and his parents got into a fight and he ran off. Maybe he thought that they were so mad at him, they didn't want him to come back for a few days or something." While it may have sounded farfetched when concerning others, we were talking about Tweek Tweak here. I smiled slightly to myself as I caught sight of a book poking out from under the neatly placed pillow. Glancing at Token, who was looking at some of the papers stacked on the small desk on the other side of the room, and then Clyde, who was still poking though Tweek's boxers, I pulled the little brown journal out from it's fluffy hiding place.

Yes it was a journal. I could tell from the way the back flap folded over the front cover and was held there with a magnet. It was the kind you buy at the bookstore for twenty dollars. The binding was covered with pictures of coffee cups. Go figure.

"And what if something bad really did happen to him?" Clyde demanded, not looking up from his search. "Like those stalkers he was talking about last night." I rolled my eyes.

"No one was outside. I looked."

"You probably just glanced around." He countered accurately, and I flipped him off with the hand that wasn't holding Tweek's diary. "Besides, what if you just couldn't see them?"

Hmmm, he had a point….

"It's Tweek, though." I tried to justify, keeping my voice as neutral as possible. I was starting to feel kind of uncomfortable.

I mean, what if, you know?

"SO?" He demanded.

"So," I answered, motioning to the chest of drawers he was still rooting through. "Find any gnomes yet?"

Clyde finally turned to look at me, opening his mouth to say something, but Token cut us off.

"Would you two please stop it! If Tweek is in trouble, there probably won't be anything we could do about it anyway." he pointed out, sounding frustrated. "And if he's not, then we're worrying over nothing."

I opened my mouth to say something, though I'm really not sure what it was. After all, Token had a point. Trust it to him to be all logical and stuff.

"I know that." Clyde mutttered, giving me another one of those nasty looks he had been throwing at me all day. "But just keep in mind Craig, if Tweek actually _is_ in trouble, it's your fault."

"WHAT?!"

I could feel my temper flaring, but before I could pounce on the fat bastard and beat the shit out of him (how DARE he blame ME for this! How was any of it my fault?!) the door opened and Mrs. Tweak poked her head in.

"Boys? I'm sorry to bother you, but it's getting late…." she trailed off, but we all knew what she was implying.

_Please leave now._

Clyde threw me one last dirty look before walking out the door, wishing Mrs. Tweak and good night as he went. She gave him a small smile in return. Token followed him, nodding politely to Mrs. Tweak as he wished her pleasant dreams. I left the room last, wishing Mrs. Tweak a good night as well, but not before shoving the small brown journal into my bag. If there _was_ something going on, _that_ would tell me what it was. If not, not only did I have some dirt on Tweek in case I needed it, but I could always blame gnomes for it turning up in his bushes the next morning.

Besides, it's a _journal. _Come on, you would have taken it too, you _know _you would have!

I wanted to punch Clyde once we were all out of the shop. I really, _really_ did. But I was going to prove him wrong first. Tweek would be home in the morning.

Instead, I just settled for flipping him off with both hands and walking home on my own.

To add to my annoyance with Clyde, I got grounded for missing supper and, ironically, not calling to say I would be late. I placed Tweek's journal in my dresser by my bed the second I got home. That drawer was my junk drawer, and no one ever took the time to root around in it. Not since my sister got her finger broken by a stray mouse trap I had shoved in there.

It's a long story, don't ask.

I fed Stripes, making a mental note to clean his cage sometime that week, showered and climbed into bed.

Something had been bothering me since I had left Tweak Bros. and it wasn't what Clyde had said (though that honestly bothered me more than I was willing to admit to.)

No, it was something else.

But what?

Another bit of shameless advertising, I have just started a Tweek/Craig Com on Live Journal. Look us up and join :D You know you want to. So far Tweeklikechocolate and I are the only members. Keep us from dieing people!


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